Yugioh Drabbles
by OceanTiger13
Summary: A collection of random Yugioh drabbles and oneshots, some humorous, some AU, some romantic, some more serious. Prepare for zombies. And gazebos.
1. Introduction

Introduction

Just my boring full summary, folks, you can skip this if you want. Basically, this is where I'm keeping my Yugioh oneshots and drabbles. Some will be romance (and mostly slash, in that regard), some will be humor, and some will be more serious. Don't worry—I'll warn you.

I'll give mini-summaries of each drabble or oneshot or whatever before the title, along with the ratings and why they're given that rating.

Overall, this is rated T, just so I have room to play around. There shouldn't be anything over T in here, but if there is, I'll give you a warning in big neon lights before you read it.

Other stuff: First a disclaimer: Yugioh does not belong to me (but if it did, I would be very happy). Second, credit for many of the ideas of these stories goes to my good friend whom I'm going to call Mag Mell, as Mag Mell doesn't yet have a fanfiction account. (To anyone out there with a fanfiction account called Mag Mell, sorry.) Third, beware of myriad references to Yugioh: The Abridged Series, done by the amazing LittleKuriboh on youtube, for which I cannot claim any credit whatsoever. LittleKuriboh, you are a fracking genius.

There you have it. Enjoy!


	2. Yugi of the Dead

Summary: Random silly fun with zombies!

Genre: Humor

Rated T for swearing and blood and guts

References to slash, don't like, don't read.

Yugi of the Dead

"Zombies," said Yugi, flatly, staring at the television screen. "_Why_, of _all things_, did it have to be zombies? New York gets King Kong, Tokyo gets Godzilla, San Francisco gets the X-Men, but what does Domino City get? Zombies."

"Oh quit whining," growled Kaiba, who was sitting next to him on the couch, "the whole world's probably covered in the living dead at this point."

"Ever the optimist, Kaiba," said Ishizu wearily as she walked by.

"Never fear, friendship shall see us through this ordeal!" cried Teya from the kitchen, as she pointed a kitchen knife in the air.

"Oh, stop with the friendship speeches, Teya!" said Yami irritably out of Yugi's mouth. "We've got enough problems as it is already." He turned back to the image on the screen of a young news reporter being torn to shreds by two zombies.

Sitting in the lazyboy chair next to the couch, Tristan looked between the grisly news report and Serenity, who was seated at the kitchen table where Teya was still waving around the knife, slashing at an invisible zombie. "My voice gives me super strength!" he declared to no one in particular.

The day was warm, the sun was shining, and Yugi, Joey, Tristan, Teya, Kaiba, Mokuba and Ishizu were holed up in the card game shop in Domino City, which was at this point completely overrun by zombies.

The reason _why_ they were all holed up in the card game shop, however, is unknown.

"Wait—you throw us all together at the card shop and we don't even get an explanation why?" Yugi shouted into empty space, upon hearing this.

Shut up, Yugi.

"What if we were hostages or something?" Yugi demanded, throwing his hands up into the air.

"Hullo, everyone!" came a cheerful voice with a British accent from the back room.

…Apparently Bakura was there too.

Yugi paused, a look of horror crossing his face. "We don't get an explanation AND we're stuck with Bakura?" he shrieked.

Shut _up_, Yugi.

"How can you possibly be cheerful at a time like this?" Kaiba demanded of Bakura, who had just entered the kitchen, smiling and shining with innocence. Literally. Like a Twilight vampire. "The world's been overrun by zombies!"

"You don't know that—" Ishizu cut in, but she was interrupted by the news reporter on the television.

"Attention, Domino City!" announced the reporter, a burly man with aviator glasses and a bizarre, phallic hairdo, "The world has been overrun by zombies!"

Ishizu sighed. "Goodbye, hope," she muttered.

"Friendship will keep us together!" Teya cried.

"Nyeah, whaddabout me?" Joey, who so far had been sitting beside his sister in the kitchen, unnoticed, "Don't I get any lines?"

No, Joey.

"But why not?" Joey demanded, crossing his arms and looking up at the ceiling.

Because shut up.

"Hey, that's MY overused catchphrase!" Ishizu protested.

THUMP.

All went silent in the card shop as the sound of a wet, sticky hand hitting glass sounded from nearby.

Slowly, all heads turned toward the sliding glass door near the television where a thin, tanned figure stood, his dark-rimmed eyes blank and soulless, his sandy hair tangled and askew, his white, sleeveless hoodie stained red with blood.

His mouth was agape in a long, hoarse moan.

Yugi's eyes went wide. "Marik?" he gasped.

_Actually, no_, came a familiar voice, and a second Marik appeared in the center of the room, transparent and non-zombied.

"Why does Marik have two bodies?" Serenity asked.

"Why is Marik see-through?" Joey demanded.

Hey, I only gave Joey two lines!

"I stole it from Mokuba—deal with it!" Joey retorted at the ceiling.

"Don't _I_ get any lines?" Mokuba asked.

That was it.

"Meanie!" Mokuba accused, pointing a finger at Joey.

"Hey! Nobody steals lines from my little brother but me!" Kaiba growled, stepping between Mokuba and Joey.

"Oh, yeah, Kaiba? Ya wanna piece of me?" Joey put his fists up.

Where the hell are all these extra lines coming from?

"Guys, we have bigger problems than that!" shouted Yugi.

Another _thump_ came from the sliding glass door, followed by another hoarse moan.

"Huh," said Bakura, whose Twilight glow had disappeared, in an unusually deep and husky voice, "he sounds just like that in bed."

_I do not!_ snapped the transparent Marik. _Fluffy._

"So…why are you here?" Bakura asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

_Well, first off, that's not me_, transparent Marik said, _that's Melvin. See the eye?_

"…Ah," Bakura noted.

"Wait, who's Melvin?" asked Yugi, frowning.

"Marik has a dual personality," Yami replied through Yugi's mouth.

"STOP DOING THAT!" Yugi shouted, "I feel like a freak! Well, more than I actually am."

"Frienditty-friend-friendship!" Teya cried.

"Shut up, Teya," chorused Ishizu, Kaiba, Yami and Joey at the same time.

"YAMI!" Yugi shrieked in frustration.

_And I do not sound like that in bed_! Marik snapped at Bakura.

"Whatever you say, dear," Bakura replied. "At least he won't be giving any more hugs of death now…"

"Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuug…" moaned Zombie-Melvin.

"Spoke too soon," Bakura muttered.

_Oh, just do us all a favor and shoot him already. _Marik crossed his arms.

"You're not at all partial to that body?" Bakura asked.

_Not in that state, no_, Marik replied, regarding Zombie-Melvin with distaste.

Suddenly, Zombie-Melvin took a particularly hard wing at the glass, and a crack appeared, running from the top to the bottom of the door.

Those nearest to the zombie at the couch jumped to their feet and scrambled into the kitchen.

"Yugi, where does your grandpa keep the shotgun?" Teya demanded.

"We don't HAVE a shotgun!" Yugi answered, "What do I look like, a redneck? We have a _deer rifle_."

"WELL GO GET IT!" everyone shouted in unison.

"Okay, okay!" Yugi protested, "Jeez! I'm goin', I'm goin'!" He ran quickly upstairs and returned a minute later holding a 30-30 deer rifle, and two small boxes of ammo, one empty, one full. "Okay—lock and load. Who wants to do the honors?"

Zombie-Melvin moaned again: "Huuuuuuuuuuug…" and hit the door again. Spidercracks spread across the glass.

"I don't know how to use a gun!" Teya protested.

"I got enough of guns at home," said Joey stubbornly, crossing his arms.

"Oh, come on, stop playing the lovable rogue and take the damn gun!" Yugi said, irritably.

"Nyeah, I don't got any more lines than dis, Yug. Sorry," Joey replied, and clamped his mouth shut.

"Why can't you do it, Yugi?" asked Tristan.

"Hey!" Yugi protested, "Just because he's a zombie it doesn't mean I'm gonna shoot my pseudo-not-really-friend's-5,000-year-old-Egyptian-spirit's-kind-of-boyfriend's-psychotic-mass-murdering-alter-ego! I have morals, you know!"

"Like cheating at card games?" Kaiba folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Shut up, Kaiba," Yugi told Kaiba, shortly.

Suddenly, there came a _crack_, and then a _crash_, as the sliding glass door shattered, and Zombie-Melvin stepped into the room.

_Would SOMEBODY just shoot me now? _screamed Marik.

"Oh for heaven's sake, GIVE ME THAT!" Bakura shouted and grabbed the rifle from Yugi, pointing it at Zombie-Melvin and pulling the trigger.

Bakura's aim was dead on, and a resounding CRACK filled the room as a wide, red hole appeared in Zombie-Melvin's forehead.

The zombie gave a final, forlorn: "Huuuuuuuuug…" before falling backwards and thudding to the floor.

Sighs of relief sounded in the kitchen. There was a brief silence, then Teya burst out:

"I TOLD YOU! THE POWER OF FIRENDSHIP HAS SEEN US THROUGH!"

"Shut up, Teya," everyone chorused.

_Thump. Thump._

All eyes turned to the front window where none other than Rex and Weevil were standing, blank-eyed, tapping with bloodstained hands on the glass.

"Heh heh—heh heh—flaaaaaaat," moaned Weevil.

"Flaaaaaaaaaat," echoed Rex.

"I AM NOT FLAT!" Teya shouted.

"Any scruples about shooting these two?" Bakura asked Yugi.

"None whatsoever," Yugi replied, grabbing the gun.

FIN


	3. Fetch

Summary: Joey, Kaiba, and a frisbee. Figure it out yourself.

Genre: Humor/romance, puppyshipping, slash.

Rated K+ for Joey's censored dog swearing

JOEY IS A FURRY!

Credit to Mag Mell for the idea

Fetch

Joey gave a forlorn sigh as for the fourth time in a row the oversized red and white frisbee flew overhead, spinning off across the grass and landing about a hundred feet away, next to a group of eight-year-old girls playing soccer.

"Kaibaaa!" he protested to Kaiba, who was standing about fifteen feet away, smirking. "They're not payin' me for dis!"

"They're _paying_ you to provide fanservice, and I can tell you, the fangirls are going to be _very_ happy," Kaiba responded, "Besides, it's part of your contract."

"Goin' to the park and playin' frisbee was part of my contract!" Joey snapped, "Not this! This is degrading and oppressive!"

"But the fangirls _love_ it!" Kaiba replied, still wearing his smug smirk.

"Why can't ya throw it right? You're physically capable of it!" Joey grumbled.

"I'm sorry that I'm bad at frisbee, Joey," Kaiba apologized, casually examining his fingernails, "Now fetch!"

Joey sighed and turned around, trudging off toward the frisbee, muttering: "This is so fulla yif."


	4. Marik and Bakura's Slutty Catfight

Summary: See title.

Genre: Humor

Rated T for extreme kitty violence and skimpy outfits. (Censored by 4kids.)

Marik and Bakura's Slutty Catfight

" '_Marik and Bakura's Slutty Catfight'_?" Marik repeated, staring at the Title. "That does _not_ sound good."

"Oh, is _that_ why we're standing in a padded room wearing skintight Freddie Mercury outfits?" Bakura asked, glancing down at himself.

"Freddie Mercury WHAT?" Marik demanded. He looked down at himself and gave a screech of horror. "WHAT IS THIS?"

"Based upon the title, I believe were are expected to have a slutty catfight," Bakura said, plucking at his tight sleeves.

"I LOOK LIKE DAVID BOWIE FROM _LABYRINTH_!" Marik shrieked.

"And based upon the lack of furnishings in the room and the padded walls, I believe we are in an insane asylum," Bakura continued. "Huh. Maybe I really am insane after all."

"WOULD YOU STOP SPECULATING ON YOUR PORENTIAL INSANITY?" Marik screamed, "WE LOOK LIKE BAD EIGHTIES ROCK STARS!"

"Based upon the author's liking of the _Batman_ fandom, perhaps Arkham Asylum?" Bakura mused.

"BAKURA! STOP ACTING LIKE SHERLOCK HOLMES AND THINK ABOUT WHAT WE'RE WEARING!" Marik shouted.

"That must be a two-way mirror," Bakura said, pointing to the mirror hanging at the opposite end of the room.

"LOOK AT WHAT WE HAVE ON, FLUFFY!" Marik yelled.

Bakura froze. Slowly he turned to face Marik, his eyes blazing with anger. "_What_," he hissed, "did you call me?"

"Fluffy!" Marik snarled, defiantly, "Now if you'll listen to me, we have to figure out how to get some new clothes!"

"_Say that again_," Bakura growled, "I dare you."

Marik crossed his arms and stuck out his chin. "Fluffy," he said.

Without another word, Bakura launched himself at Marik, teeth bared, hands hooked into claws.

Marik barely got his own hands up to defend himself before Bakura tackled him to the padded floor.

Standing on the other side of the two-way mirror, two fangirls grinned and high-fived, screeching in unison, "CATFIGHT!"

FIN

Author's Note: For those of you who don't know, Freddie Mercury (lead vocalist of _Queen_, a fracking awesome British eighties rock band), was known to wear very often (at concerts) notorious, skintight outfits. Go check him out on youtube. If you've ever seen _Labyrinth_ with David Bowie, it's something like Jareth's outfit except everything is skintight, not just the pants. XD


	5. Buried Treasure

Summary: Alternate universe where Marik is in the past with the rest of the yamis, off to steal something from the Pharaoh—but Yami-Bakura gets there first.

Rated T for Bakura being creepy.

Buried Treasure

The night was warm—a sticky, sweet sort of warm that clung to Marik as he stole quietly down the dark street, past the empty market stalls and the quiet houses.

He walked quickly, almost on tiptoe. He wanted to return before Ishizu realized he had gone.

He turned a corner and disappeared down a dark alley, then reappeared on the other side, looking out at the large, empty market square. He stopped and glanced left and right, and then headed across the square, a shadow in the moonlit night.

He disappeared at the other side into another alley, stepping quietly around the baskets and crates of goods piled against the walls, pulling his hood up as he turned onto a thin, winding street where the night life was livelier. He could hear drunken chatter from the nearest bars, joyful shouts of glee from the gambling tables.

He cut through to another, quieter street, his pace quickening in anticipation. He was almost there—he could taste it.

And then he was there—at the edge of the Pharaoh's palace.

The palace stood at the outskirts of the city, a tall, bright beacon of light in the desert, beside the flowing Nile. At the far end of the palace there was a small pond formed by years' worth of water from the Nile getting trapped and sinking into softer ground. The pond led to a drain…which led into the palace.

_A single way in,_ Marik thought, smiling to himself, _untouched by the Pharaoh's guards._ _A gateway to the Eyes._

The Eyes were a legend, Marik knew—a child's bedtime story, and likely nothing more. The idea that five magic items that held the power to unleash the wrath of the Gods rested within the Pharaoh's control, well…it was absurd.

But still…

Marik took a deep breath. _Enough standing around,_ he thought, and darted toward the Nile, disappearing into the reeds and heading toward the pond. He kept a sharp ear and eye out for crocodiles* as he did so, keeping the knife hanging at his hip close at hand. Not that a knife would be any great protection against a crocodile, but it was all he had.

His feet hit water. Quickly, he took off both his sandals and hung them on one of the reeds, then pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him standing in his shorts.

His heart had begun to pound in anticipation.

He took a step forward into the pond, and then another, and kept going until the water had reached his waist. Then he took a deep breath, and ducked beneath the surface.

He opened his eyes, his vision blurry in the murky water, and pushed off from the muddy bank, gliding across the pond, the reeds brushing against his legs.

He kicked his feet as gently as he could in order to keep the surface still, pushing back water with his arms.

Soon enough, he just as his lungs were starting to twinge, it came into view: the metal grate in front of the drain.

Marik's heart leapt with excitement and he kicked forward, propelling himself toward the metal grate and taking hold of the metal bars.

He took his hand away briefly to see that red flakes of metal were peeling away—rust.

Marik winced as his lungs began to ache.

_Come on Marik, hurry up and get it done._

He took hold of one of the bars and yanked hard.

The entire submerged half of the grate came loose and floated to the bottom of the pond as Marik, quick as lightning, pulled himself up and into the stone drain, gasping for breath as he broke the surface.

_Thank the Gods that was rusted through._

He sat for a moment to catch his breath before standing and starting to walk through the tunnel, the murky pond water at his feet beginning to recede as the tunnel sloped ever so slightly uphill.

The tunnel extended for about a hundred feet before Marik found what he was looking for: A wooden trap door in the ceiling, flickering light shining through the cracks.

Marik listened hard for any movement above, but heard none, and quietly lifted the trap door, pushing it aside and climbing out.

He emerged in a cellar, lit by flickering torches, and containing myriad barrels of what was surely wine.

He smiled.

Then he screamed, as a pale hand covered his mouth from behind.

Marik started to struggle to free himself from his assailant's grip, but immediately stopped as he felt the cool touch of metal against his throat. His hands dropped to his sides. His knife was missing.

"Now now, wouldn't want to cut that pretty neck, would I?" asked a deep, husky voice in his ear. "Listen carefully. I'm going to take my hand off your mouth in a moment, and you are going to tell me your name. If you scream, I'll cut your throat. Do you understand? Nod yes."

His heart pounding, Marik nodded.

Slowly, the pale hand lifted from his mouth, and the voice whispered in his ear, "What's your name?"

"M-Marik," Marik stuttered.

"Marik what?"

Marik hesitated, then gasped as the knife pressed into his neck. The hand clapped over his mouth again.

"Don't make this difficult for me, Marik. Now tell me your last name." The hand lifted.

"Ishtar," Marik gasped, his heart beginning to race harder than ever.

"Hmm." Marik's captor paused for a moment, then spoke: "Okay, Marik…I believe we have something to steal."

Marik could hear the smile in his captor's voice as his captor's grip slackened, and the knife was lifted from his throat…

FIN

*Author's Note: If it's alligators, I'm sorry—I still don't know the difference.


	6. Seaside Rendezvous

Summary: Sappy, thiefshipping fluff that I wrote on an impulse because I am insane. Steampunk somewhere, a sunset beach, 1890s time frame. Think Sherlock Holmes era. Bakura POV. Inspired by Freddie Mercury's "Seaside Rendezvous"—great song.

Genre: Romance. Sappy, sticky sweet romance.

Rated: K. Nothing to fear here, folks, except extreme sappiness.

Seaside Rendezvous

The sky was glowing. That's what I remember the most—heavy stormclouds hung over the sea, and the bright, yellow light from the sunset reflected off them and off the water. It was all glowing.

I was so captivated by the image of it—it would make such a good painting—that I didn't hear what Marik was saying.

"Bakura," he said, reaching over and poking me in the ribs with his free hand—the one that wasn't linked with mine.

I snapped out of my daze and looked back at him.

"Huh?" I asked.

He looked curiously at me, a slight smile curving his lips. "A painting idea?" he questioned, glancing at the glowing seascape.

I nodded. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you waned to come with me," he said.

I blinked. "A-around the world?" I asked. My stomach was suddenly full of butterflies.

He smiled and nodded, his eyes bright. "Of course! The _Tiger-Moth_* is ready to take to the sky any day now. It'll be an expedition unlike any other! Please, Bakura, come with me." He took both of my hands in his, his expression bright and hopeful.

I didn't know what to say.

Marik had been helping to plan the expedition for nearly a year now—from the time when I first met him. He was only a mechanic then—hard at work in the floating _Tiger-Moth_, the first-ever airship that could potentially fly all the way around the world.

Only three weeks ago, the pilot who was to fly the airship had become ill with some sort of sleeping sickness after the first test run.

Marik—my Marik—was then chosen to fly the airship—to head the expedition. When I heard, I was at first devastated. To be without him for an entire year…but now…

I stared at him, nearly breathless. A strange terror was rising in me.

_All the way around the world…_

The idea rattled me. I had hardly traveled by airship…I had hardly traveled at all.

"Marik, I…I don't know…" I heard myself say, "I…"

I broke off in midsentence, dashing across the sand to the gazebo opposite the pier.

I heard Marik's shout of confusion behind me as I ran.

"What—Bakura, wait!"

Overhead, there came a clap of thunder, and then the rain started to pour down, the drops of water brushing against my face like a million tiny moths' wings.

I was soaked through by the time I reached the gazebo and stumbled into one of the seats, breathing hard, my heart pounding. Everything seemed so close, as if all of my senses were amplified. I could smell the salt in the air, feel the splinters in the wooden bench I was sitting on, hear the individual splashes of rain, see the last rays of sunlight glittering on the ocean. I could taste the hugeness of it all.

I felt myself slowly falling backward as Marik's pounding footsteps came on the gazebo stairs, and then his hands were on my shoulders and he was kneeling in front of me, his eyes wide and worried.

"Bakura, what's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm sorry…I'm just so…overwhelmed," I breathed. "This is so abrupt."

He nodded. "I can get them to delay the expedition, if you need time. If you want to come, I mean…" he trailed off, biting his lip.

I shook my head. "It's not that," I said, and at once knew that it wasn't, "the expedition…that's not what's got me." I looked up at him. "Of course I'll come with you."

A look of relief came across his face and he smiled widely, then threw his arms around me.

When he let me go, he asked, "So…what has got you?"

I smiled at him. "You do."

He opened his mouth, blinking at him, the corners of his mouth curving up.

And as our lips met, I could smell his sweet, intoxicating breath, and hear the rain falling all around.

The butterflies in my stomach had flown away.

FIN

*Author's Note: Yes, I did steal the name of the airship from _Castle in the Sky_, go Hayao Miyazaki! …Reading this over, I'm realizing that this is a lot sappier than I thought when I was writing it…I feel kind of sick, actually. Well, folks, consider this my apology—sorry if I made you puke with the sappiness of this fic. Bakura was acting like such a damsel…it could've been a classic romance film, for cryin' out loud. My apologies to Freddie Mercury as well, who is probably turning over in his grave right now. Excuse me while I go throw up.


	7. Pool Play

Summary: Marik, Bakura, Bakura's lack of ability to swim, and a swimming pool. Fluff, and a little angst.

Genre: Humor/angst

Rated T for swearing

Credit to Mag Mell!

Pool Play

Marik lurked at the end of the swimming pool, sitting on the bench next to the artificial waterfall, looking intently at Bakura, who was fast asleep, floating on an inner tube in the shallow end.

All the others had gone inside to watch Joey and Kaiba face off at Grand Theft Auto*, and Marik and Bakura had been left alone.

Had anyone stayed behind to witness what was to happen, they would have described Marik's expression as he stared at Bakura as that of a stalker, or perhaps a bird of prey.

Marik smiled and slid underwater, gently pushing off from the wall and gliding across the pool to Bakura, who continued to sleep undisturbed, his chest slowly rising and falling beneath his white tee-shirt, his sunglasses starting to slide down his nose.

Marik suppressed a laugh as he surfaced beside Bakura, poised to strike.

He grinned, bent down, slid his hands beneath one side of the inner tube, and flipped it over.

Bakura plunged into the water with a splash and awoke instantly, standing up as if he'd been struck by lightning.

"What—" he yelped, but was cut off as Marik tackled him from behind, shouting:

"FLUFFY!"

Before he had time to react, Bakura was underwater once more, with Marik's arms closed around his chest.

Bakura resurfaced, jumping away from Marik, pulling his white hair out of his face.

"Marik," he growled, "I'm warning you—"

Marik launched himself at Bakura again, a wild grin on his face, and lifted Bakura out of the water, bridal-style.

Bakura glared at Marik, struggling to get away. "Get off, Marik! What do you think you're doing?" he shouted.

Marik's arm slipped from beneath Bakura's legs, and he wrapped it around Bakura's chest, locking Bakura into his grip, tight.

"Marik!" Bakura snarled, as Marik started to walk through the water, "Marik, where are you taking me, you effeminate bastard! MARIK!"

He craned his neck to see that Marik was grinning…and heading for the deep end.

Bakura's heart gave a leap of fear.

"Marik, stop," he said, his tone taking on panic.

Marik grinned wider, and kept walking.

"Marik, stop it! This isn't funny! Let me go! You know I can't swim, now let me go! MARIK!"

Bakura started to struggle again.

He felt Marik bouncing up and down on his tiptoes, and gave a yelp of terror, trying to pry Marik's arms away.

Marik was now treading water. He looked bemusedly at Bakura. "I didn't know your voice went that high, Fluffy," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up!" Bakura hissed, reddening, writhing harder than ever.

"Stop struggling—you're just making things harder," Marik said, chidingly.

"LET ME GO!" Bakura bellowed.

Marik shrugged. "If you insist."

Instantly, Bakura realized his mistake. The water was now more than ten feet deep—it was, after all, a diving pool—and Marik was floating away…

Bakura shrieked and all but scrambled up Marik's lean figure like a tree, his legs wrapped around Marik's torso and his arms wrapped around his head.

"Don't let me go!" Bakura whimpered, looking fearfully at the water.

Marik, who was having trouble keeping his head above the surface, coughed slightly. "Let my arms loose, Bakura, or I won't be able to hold us up."

Bakura let his legs fall away from Marik's upper body, slipping down into the water, now hugging Marik's neck.

Nose to nose with Marik, Bakura felt his fear subside slightly, to be replaced with anger.

"Bastard," he snapped.

Marik grinned, his lilac eyes sparkling with mirth. "Big, scary Bakura," he taunted, "Just a little kitty after all."

"I'm not a kitty!" Bakura spat. "And you're mean."

" 'Mean'?" Marik asked, "Is that the best you can come up with?"

"No," Bakura retorted, "you're a pathetic, whining, annoying, cruel bastard…" he paused for a moment, feeling his angry resolve crumbling at the sight of Marik's amused smile, "…and you're incredibly sexy and charming," he finished, with a resigned sigh. His heart started to pound again as he looked upon the rippling water.

Marik grinned. "I love you too, Fluffy."

"Yes, yes, now please take me to the shallow end, Marik!" Bakura all but wailed, burying his face in Marik's neck, hating himself for his terror.

Marik chuckled but acquiesced, propelling himself and Bakura back to the shallow end, where Bakura promptly let go of Marik and shoved him as hard as he could.

"Bastard," he spat, and started to walk away toward the pool steps.

Marik, who had only floated away a few feet, followed him.

"Bakura," he called, "Bakura, come on, I'm sorry! It was just a joke! Bakura!" 

"Go away!" Bakura shouted, walking away from the pool down the brick pathway.

Marik stepped out of the pool and ran to catch up with Bakura, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Bakura—" he began.

"Leave me alone!" Bakura swatted Marik's hand away and kept walking.

"Bakura, it was just a joke—" Marik began.

Bakura whirled on him, his face white with rage.

"_You know I can't swim, you shitheaded son of a bitch_!" he shouted.

They were standing in front of the sliding glass doors that led to the living room, where everyone else was playing video games.

Bakura could feel six sets of eyes on him from inside, but he didn't care.

"IT'S NOT FUNNY, MARIK, NOW JUST GET AWAY FROM ME!" Bakura turned away once again and stormed off.

Marik, all traces of a smile gone from his face, cast an uneasy glance at the spectators indoors and followed Bakura again.

Bakura was starting to shiver in the cool breeze and crossed his arms. He could feel his throat tightening, tears threatening to spill over onto his face, as if he were _there_ again.

"_Ah, c'mon, he can do it!" his father's voice slurred, drunkenly._

"_Let him go," whispered his mother, terrified._

"_Iffa goddamn baby tiger can swim, then so can he!"_

"_No!"_

_Water crashed all around him…_

"Bakura, wait!"

Bakura was snapped back to reality as he heard Marik's voice behind him—_again_.

_Go away, you bastard!_

Bakura's vision started to blur as he felt his tears starting to spill over. His pace slowed, his footsteps out of rhythm as Marik caught up to him, turning him around.

"Bakura, what—" Marik stopped as he caught sight of the tears sliding down Bakura's face.

Bakura met Marik's eyes, and started to sob.

He felt Marik pulling him into a hug, apologizing over and over: "Bakura, I'm sorry, please forgive me. I was just messing around—I didn't know you'd react that way. I swear, I won't ever do it again. I'm so sorry, Bakura, please…"

Slowly, Bakura's sobs subsided into short, shaky sniffles.

He pulled away from Marik for a moment, wiping his eyes.

"You're still a b-bastard," he hiccupped.

Despite himself, Marik laughed. "…Let's say we stay away from the pool for awhile, okay?"

Bakura nodded. "Okay."

"Let's go inside," Marik said.

Bakura shook his head, fervently. "I don't want a bloody audience."

"I know a back way in," Marik told him, "through the kitchen."

Bakura stopped for a moment, staring at Marik, who was grinning again.

"Are you bribing me?" Bakura asked, flatly.

Marik leaned forward. "Two words: Hot chocolate."

Bakura's resolve cracked. "All right, I forgive you, you bastard. Carry me."

He held out his arms expectantly, and Marik grinned, dutifully taking Bakura in his arms and heading for the house.

FIN

*Author's Note: I have no idea how the game of Grand Theft Auto is played, so if I just got that totally wrong, sorry. Wow, that was a lot angstier than I expected…


	8. Jurassic Park

Summary: Marik and Bakura, paleontologist and paleo-botanist are summoned by the man funding their dig to endorse a theme park being built on a distant island off the coast of Costa Rica…oneshot, opening scene only.

Genre: Sci-fi/Adventure

Rated K+ for dinosaurs XD

Jurassic Park

The jeep bounced jerkily over the grassy terrain, and Bakura hung onto the seat in order to keep himself balanced.

Ahead of him, the driver explained that they hadn't yet built a road bridging the road to the docks and helicopter pad with the road to the park.

Sitting beside the driver, Marik had pulled an enormous leaf off a fern they'd passed and was examining it, frowning.

"Bizarre," Marik murmured.

Bakura leaned his head against the metal bar that extended up and over the jeep, shutting his eyes briefly, watching the dappled light from the trees overhead flicker beneath his eyelids.

He wasn't quite sure what he was doing here, endorsing a bloody theme park on an island in Latin America…true, Pegasus had said it was right up his alley, but it was a theme park. Bakura didn't do _theme parks_. He dug for dinosaur bones.

He thought back to the day before yesterday, when Pegasus had shown up in Montana at the dig site.

Bakura had been heading the excavation of a baby velociraptor skeleton when Pegasus had shown up.

He'd landed a helicopter far too close to the dig for comfort.

Bakura remembered the dust in the air as he scrambled back toward the dig with Marik, shouting, "COVER THE DIG! COVER THE DIG!"

Furious, Bakura had run to the helicopter, yelling at the pilot to shut it down. The pilot had pointed him to the trailer, and Bakura had run to it to find a lean man with long gray hair bent over the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of champagne and popping the cork.

"Hey!" Bakura had shouted, "Hey, we were saving that!"

The man had stood up, smiling. "For today, I guarantee it!" he had answered. He was quite tall.

"Just who the hell do you think you are?" Bakura demanded.

"Maximilien Pegasus," the man had replied, offering his hand.

Instantly Bakura's attitude changed. Maximilien Pegasus, whom he had never actually met in person, was the rich dinosaur nut who was funding Bakura's dig.

At that moment, Marik had burst in, demanding, "All right, who's the jerk?"

Hastily, Bakura had introduced Pegasus. Marik's reaction was the same as Bakura's. Quickly he apologized and started trying to help Pegasus pour the champagne.

After the drinks were poured, Pegasus had explained to Marik and Bakura about a theme park he was building on an island off the coast of Costa Rica. Pegasus needed to convince the lawyer representing his investors that the park was safe. He had offered to fund Bakura's dig for a further three years if Bakura and Marik agreed to come to Pegasus' island and check out the park.

Naturally, they had agreed.

But even still.

Bakura glanced at the other jeep, at Pegasus, the lawyer, Devlin, and the expert the lawyer had brought along—a mathematician with a blond mop of hair and a Brooklyn accent by the name of Joey Wheeler.

Why would Pegasus want a mathematician and two dinosaur experts to endorse a bloody theme park?

"This is bizarre," Marik repeated, interrupting Bakura's thoughts.

"What's that?" Bakura asked, glancing at the enormous leaf in Marik's hands.

The jeeps emerged into a grassy clearing, and Pegasus' jeep pulled over, Pegasus stepping out and pointing at something to the left, up a small hill.

Bakura looked over to what Pegasus was pointing at.

He blinked, his mouth gaping open as he stood up, pulling off his hat and sunglasses, hanging onto the jeep's metal frame for support.

"This isn't possible," Marik was saying, still fixated on his leaf, "This species has been extinct since the late Cretaceous Period—"

Bakura put his hand on Marik's head and turned it to the left.

"What? What—" Marik broke off in midsentence and stood up as well, open-mouthed, tearing off his sunglasses.

Standing before them, not a hundred feet away, was a dinosaur.

Bakura got out of the jeep and started up the hill, staring speechless at the creature before him.

_Brachiosaurus, _he thought, disjointedly, _Thought to be warm-blooded because of the heart capacity needed to push blood fifty feet up the neck to its brain. Herbivore. Warm-blooded. Real._

He heard footsteps behind him and turned to face Marik, an incredulous smile on his face.

"It's—it's a dinosaur," he managed to get out.

"It's real," Marik marveled, staring up at the creature as it pulled leaves out of a tree, munching contentedly. "It's _real_. Oh my God. I'm hallucinating, or something."

"Not hallucinating, Dr. Ishtar," said Pegasus, coming up beside them, "True flesh and blood, just as nature created them."

"How fast are they?" Bakura asked Pegasus, his mind reeling.

Pegasus shrugged. "Well, we clocked the T-Rex at thirty-two miles per hour."

Bakura stumbled forward, catching Pegasus' shoulder, unable to believe what he'd just heard.

"You have a T-Rex," he repeated, wide-eyed. His words came out as a giddy giggle.

Pegasus nodded, smiling. "We have a T-Rex," he said.

Bakura felt dizzy. He staggered right, leaning on Marik for support, slowly lowering himself to the grassy ground.

He turned as Pegasus stepped forward, still smiling.

"Welcome," he said, spreading his arms, "to Jurassic Park."

FIN


	9. Florence?

Summary: Marik and Bakura are going to Florence! A belated Happy 4th of July to my fellow Americans. Happy 4th!

Rated: K+ A bit of swearing, and some hinted violence.

Genre: Humor

Florence

Bakura felt evil.

Of course, this was not an unusual occurrence. Bakura was evil. So whenever he was in control of his host's body, he was capable of any and all acts of evil. (Except cosplaying. Everyone has their limit.)

Bakura pulled his switchblade out of his pocket and snapped it open, twirling it between his pale fingers, wondering if he ought to torture a kitten to demonstrate his evilness…on second thought, maybe not. It had taken him a week to get the bloodstains out the last time.

"Hey, Bakura!" came a familiar, irritating voice.

Bakura huffed a sigh, turning to face Marik, who was running over, wearing a ridiculous-looking beret atop his sandy hair, a long, black woolen coat, and dragging behind him two heavy-looking suitcases covered in stickers.

The words "Yes, Marik" had been on the tip of his tongue, but instead Bakura asked: "What the bloody hell are you wearing?"

"Traveling gear!" Marik grinned. "Come on, Bakura, we've got a plane to catch!"

Bakura blinked. "A plane," he repeated, flatly.

Marik nodded. "It's boarding in half an hour! Come on, we have to get to the airport!"

"And where, pray tell, are we going?"

Marik grinned. "To Florence!" he declared, punching his fist in the air.

Bakura blinked. "Marik…I'm _right here,"_ he said, frowning.

Marik looked at Bakura, confused. "What?" he asked, "…No, not _you_, Bakura! Florence the _city."_

"Oh," Bakura said, "…Florence, Italy?"

"No," Marik replied.

"Florence, Spain?"

"No."

"Florence…uh…France?" asked Bakura, frowning.

"Is there a Florence, France?" Marik asked.

Bakura shrugged. "Maybe."

"No," Marik answered.

"Well, where else is there a Florence?" demanded Bakura.

Marik looked at Bakura, despairingly, "Florence, Oregon, Fluffy!"

Bakura blinked. "Florence…Oregon?" he asked, his face falling slightly.

Marik nodded fervently, smiling.

"…I repeat…why?"

"The Fourth of July, Bakura!"

Bakura frowned. "I'm not American," he said.

Marik shrugged. "Neither am _I," _he answered.

"Yes, exactly, neither are you. So _why_ are we going to celebrate the Fourth of July in Florence, Oregon?"

"Bakura, it's fireworks! _Fireworks!"_ Marik waved his hands in the air, trying to make the point.

Bakura huffed a sigh, realizing that Marik wasn't going to let it go. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do.

"All right," he muttered, taking one of the suitcases from Marik, "But I'm not going if you don't take off that stupid hat."

Marik beamed and took off the hat, plunking it down on Bakura's head.

Bakura sighed, following Marik down the street.

It was going to be a long day.

A/N: Before you ask, no, I am not from Florence, Oregon, but I _have_ been there on the 4th of July. It's fun. This was just a kind of nostalgia trip for me, something to laugh about. I dunno. I got to picture Marik in a beret, so it's all good. : )


	10. Scream

Summary: Heads up, folks, it's a Mokuba story! Just a drabble.

Rated K+ for Mokuba being disturbed.

Genre: Angst.

Scream

They tell you in school that if somebody tries to drop you, you should scream. Scream as loud as you can and try to get away.

They don't ever tell you just how hard it is to scream. They don't tell you how your stomach knots itself into a corner, or how the blood in your head goes hot with fear. They don't tell you how your throat constricts when you're grabbed from behind, or how your legs freeze in place and refuse to move.

I should know. I've been there.

It's true what they say, you know…ignorance is bliss.

FIN

A/N: Just a creepy, cynical Mokuba drabble for my own amusement—had a creepy dream feature pedophiles and dead, blood-covered Snape…don't ask. I think the Joker might've made it in there too.


End file.
